


These Scars We Bare

by MaesMora



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Banter, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Enthusiastic Consent, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out, More Making Out, POV Harry Potter, Photographer Harry Potter, Photography, Scars, Schmoop, Severus Snape Lives, Snark, TasteofSmut 2020, Tea, magical photography, sight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:14:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25604167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaesMora/pseuds/MaesMora
Summary: Harry is a photographer by profession, and he's working on a new series to be revealed in the fall. He has one last subject that he'd love to capture for his series highlighting the brave individuals who bear scars from the Wizarding World's two wars with Voldemort, but he's pretty sure he's going to have some convincing to do if Severus Snape is ever going to agree to step in front of his camera, even if they are friends now. Further complicating matters, he's also harboring some unrequited feelings for the prickly Potions Master. Or so he thinks...
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Comments: 52
Kudos: 449
Collections: Taste of Smut Fest





	These Scars We Bare

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xanthippe74](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xanthippe74/gifts).



> First off, I'd like to thank the mods and organizers of this fest for their patience and hard work. We wouldn't have all these lovely new works to enjoy without you! Second, to my phenomenal betas [Likelightinglass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Likelightinglass/pseuds/Likelightinglass) and [OliverWilde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OliverWilde/pseuds/OliverWilde), I couldn't have managed on my own. You're both rock stars! Thanks also to the incomparable [hippocrates460](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hippocrates460/pseuds/hippocrates460) for your gentle encouragement when I needed it most. This prompt seized me by the throat and wouldn't let go until this story clawed its way out of me, so thank you for the inspiration, lovely prompter!
> 
> Prompt: Character A is self-conscious about their appearance or scars. Character B is a photographer who offers to take pictures of Character A to show them just how beautiful they are in Character B's eyes.

Harry swirled the solution in one of the trays at the work table in his dark room, waving his wand in a pattern he could’ve done in his sleep at this point in order to completely saturate the photograph currently soaking in it. He was on the final step for this particular image. The potion he was treating it with would allow the figure in the picture to move. Setting a timer on his wand, he then holstered it and turned to putter about at the desk on the opposite wall while he waited for the potion to do its work. He had every confidence that it would. Severus had brewed it, after all. 

If someone had told him back in school that he’d one day be on a first name basis with his once most hated professor, he’d have laughed in their face, but time (and a bit of persistence) had eventually seen them through. A loyal house elf and having antivenin and blood replenishing potions on hand had saved the Potions Master’s life, as Harry had discovered late that first morning after the Battle for Hogwarts. He’d been strangely elated as he’d stood over the man’s bed in the hospital wing, swaying with fatigue but unable to rest until he’d seen for himself that it was true. He’d earned an earful from Madam Pomfrey before being dragged off to Gryffindor Tower by his friends to fall into his four poster at last. 

That had been nearly seven years ago. After some initial awkwardness (not to mention some fidgeting and stuttering on his part when he’d returned Severus’ memories) they’d formed an odd sort of friendship after the Death Eater trials. Well, it was probably closer to the truth that Harry had pestered Severus nearly constantly until the older man had given up and accepted that his life was never going to be entirely free of irritating Gryffindors. Smiling at the memory, he pulled the photo album set off to one side closer so that he’d remember to bring it upstairs. He riffled through it until the timer on his wand buzzed, reminding him to remove the photograph he had curing from the solution tray.

Humming absent-mindedly, he carefully hung the image from one of several lines of twine strung above the worktable to let it dry before gathering up the album from his desk and making his way out of the cellar and up into the kitchen. Setting the album aside on the table, he checked the time before making a face and bustling about to get a tea tray ready. Kreacher would have normally been shuffling about, scolding his master for not allowing the house-elf to serve him, but he had been under the weather lately, causing Harry to worry enough to insist he rest for a week or two. Highly displeased at the prospect, it had taken ordering him to Hogwarts and having the other house-elves promise to keep an eye on him before Harry was satisfied.

So he was on his own when it came to preparing for his guest, which was fine. Harry was capable in the kitchen and even enjoyed cooking for himself and his friends when he could manage it. He finished arranging a plate of little sandwiches, scones on the next one, and then the last with an assortment of fresh fruit with clotted cream on the side. Turning his head at the sound of the kettle whistling, he went to take it off the hob at nearly the same moment his wards chimed to alert him to the fact that someone had just come through his floo.

Cursing softly under his breath, he hastily finished preparing the tea, listening for the familiar tread of his guest’s footfalls down the hall. Drat the man, he was early! He was about to spell the tea tray to follow him when a low voice, slightly rougher than it had been in his time at Hogwarts, addressed him from the doorway.

“Ah, I see you haven’t forgotten me after all. I was anticipating having to go dig you out of your little hidey hole in the cellar as I did last week.”

Harry blushed at the reminder and flicked his wand at the tea things before rounding the table and gesturing back toward the hall.

“I _said_ I was sorry, Severus. I even made you those sandwiches with watercress you like so much—”

His former professor cut him off with an impatient huff and swept along down the hallway and up the stairs, ascending to the sitting room. Harry sighed and trotted along dutifully after him, the tea tray floating behind him. He remembered to swipe the photo album up off the table at the last second and hugged it to his chest as he made his way to the sitting room in Severus’ wake. 

When he entered the room the other man was already settling himself in his preferred chair, and a pair of dark eyes fixed on him expectantly. Harry couldn’t stop one corner of his mouth curling up in a hopelessly fond smile before putting the album down on the end table beside Severus and setting up the tea things on the sideboard. Fixing his guest’s cup first, he turned and handed it over automatically before also fixing him a plate of all his favorites and handing that over as well. Severus’ eyes glinted in approval as he set his tea aside in favor of devouring one of the watercress sandwiches in two neat bites.

Harry turned away abruptly, biting the inside of his cheek to contain his mirth as he collected his own tea and plate of foodstuffs before sitting down in his own chair and taking leisurely sips from his cup. After he’d watched Severus consume two more of the little sandwiches and a bit of fruit besides, he thought it might be safe to speak again.

“So how’s your research going? I know last week you said you thought you were close to a breakthrough on the memory serum.”

He leaned forward slightly, expression earnest. Severus set his cup back down, having just taken a sip of tea, and took a moment to clear his throat before responding.

“Ah, yes. I had some success with cutting back on the moondew and adjusting when to add the Runespoor eggs. I believe within the next few weeks I may be prepared to apply for approval of human testing. That is, of course, assuming that the dunderheads at the Ministry can be bothered to respond to my owls in a timely fashion.”

Harry smiled at the quip about the Ministry and had to agree. The bureaucracy was only one reason he’d surprised everyone by turning down their offer to fast track him through the Auror training program after the war. The biggest reason was that he was just tired of fighting. He hadn’t regretted it, especially after Ron quit in his second year being active on the force in favor of working for George at Wheezes. His chosen career path may have been unexpected, but Harry was happy. 

Well, he was happy with his job and content enough with most other things. His gaze traveled over the familiar planes of Severus’ face as the other man continued to talk about his research before flicking to his hands, which were animatedly gesticulating as he made some point or other about the efficacy of pewter cauldrons versus iron for brewing healing potions. Harry loved Severus’ hands. They were elegant, with long, slender fingers that constantly drew Harry’s attention whenever he wasn’t careful enough to curtail his interest. 

Which was more and more often lately. He blinked when Severus made an impatient noise in the back of his throat and jerked his eyes up to the other man’s face. There was something unreadable in the way Severus was looking at him, and he almost forgot himself enough to ask.. almost.

“I’m sorry. I must’ve missed that. What were you saying?”

An incredulous snort followed his statement, and he watched Severus’ left eyebrow arch in that familiar way that he knew translated to, ‘You are an idiot of the highest order, and I don’t know why I put up with you, Potter.’ He didn’t _say_ it, of course, but Harry knew, all the same. 

What he did say was, “If you heard a word I’ve said for the past five minutes alone I’ll donate the contents of my vault to charity. I _said_ , what was in that album you were hauling about with you? I assume I am to be subjected to its contents this afternoon, am I not?”

Harry blinked again, then almost jolted forward when Severus took it upon himself to pick the album up off the end table beside his chair and open it, eyes already flicking slowly over the first picture in a series that followed the album’s theme. A familiar face stared up at the man, another former student from Harry’s year. Scars marred her features, vivid and highlighted, perhaps, by the proud tilt of her chin, marks that had obviously been caused by claws cutting across her cheek, bisecting one eye, catching the bottom edge of her lower lip and continuing in a widening jagged line down and across her jaw and down the side of her neck. They were not the only ones featured. More claw marks trailed across one shoulder, raking over her collarbone, and this was the side she emphasized for the camera, every line of her body a challenge.

Severus breathed in sharply through his nose, jaw working as though he’d clenched his teeth hard against speaking aloud. Harry watched helplessly as he flipped to the next page. Bill Weasley’s smile curved his mouth upward at one corner in a fashion that could more accurately be described as a smirk, and then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, he had the audacity to _wink_ at the viewer and perform a suggestive eyebrow arch before the whole image reset and began again. He too wore the scars given him by Fenrir Greyback, but far from ashamed, his expression seemed to invite examination. The flirtation was unmistakable, and in other circumstances usually made Harry laugh. He was not laughing at the moment, and Severus appeared as incapable of it as most people usually assumed.

Harry knew that wasn’t true. He’d heard Severus laugh right here in this very room on numerous occasions since their weekly ritual of sharing tea had begun all those years ago now. He clutched at the arms of his chair, biting down hard on his lower lip, which was caught between his teeth in habitual worry. He’d wanted to be able to explain first. To warn Severus of the contents of the album before he’d see the images and, perhaps, misunderstand. It was far too late for that now. He watched as Severus’ face slid into blank impassivity as he flipped to the next page and was greeted by another familiar face, this one proud and severe, sat in a chair, back ramrod straight as she stared out at the viewer.

Minerva McGonagall was in a traditional Scottish tartan, a crisp white shirt underneath, though the neckline had been modified, left wide enough to leave most of one shoulder bare, and on that shoulder a scar in the shape of a starburst. She’d caught a curse from one of the Carrows in that awful sham of what would’ve been Harry’s seventh year at school while shielding a pair of students they’d singled out for ‘discipline’ and now proudly displayed, in her typical no-nonsense fashion, the result of that deed for all to see. Harry watched Severus’ fingers twitch, hesitate, linger perhaps a moment longer on that page than the first two before flipping through the next few in quicker succession.

He stopped again when he came to Hermione Granger-Weasley’s photo, her head tilted up slightly, chin firm, one arm raised diagonally across her chest with the hateful word Bellatrix Lestrange had carved into her flesh bare and on display. Harry watched Severus’ throat constrict and understood all too well the history the man had with that word, why it would be hard to see someone brandish it defiantly, unashamed. Another page, and Ron Weasley grinned and did an exaggerated flex for the camera, which called attention to the pale, twisting lines of the scars looping up and down his arms.

Severus snorted and flipped to the next page and froze, eyes riveted to the image he found there. Harry flushed and covered his face with his hands, groaning and praying that the earth would just open and swallow him whole. The next picture was of _him_ , and he’d definitely planned on skipping that one if at all possible. Well, the cat was out of the bag now. While hiding behind his fingers, he missed the way the other man’s eyes roved over the photograph, lingering on each scar laid bare. His hair was drawn back in a messy bun in the picture (not that his hair was capable of behaving itself, anyway) so that most of the famous lightning scar on his forehead was visible, and he held his right arm up, fist clenched and turned so that the back was displayed to the viewer with words in Harry’s own untidy scrawl, ‘I must not tell lies’ in stark relief.

There was more, and it was this that had Harry hiding his face and praying for an Obliviate straight to the face. His photo self was shirtless, and two scars marred his chest. Well, one sort of overlapped the other. The first had been caused by Slytherin’s locket, which had also been a Horcrux and had left a red, oval shaped scar over Harry’s heart, but superimposed over this was another lightning bolt scar, the result of the second time Voldemort had used the Killing Curse upon him in the Forbidden Forest. Not many people had seen it up til now, and no one save for his best friends and a few other select members of the Order were aware of all of the details of that night. He knew that going public with the collection at his upcoming exhibition in the fall would likely garner attention and prompt questions from the media and the general public that he’d really rather not deal with, but he wasn’t about to ask the people he’d photographed to participate if he wasn’t willing to do the same.

Harry took a shaky breath and, without bothering to uncover his face, attempted to salvage the situation with an explanation.

“I know what you’re thinking. Wait, no, I really have no idea what you’re thinking beyond the fact that I’ve probably lost my mind, but hear me out, please. It’s a new series I’m working on. The Fruits of War. I know it’s been years, and of course people want to move on. You more than anyone deserve to.. to put all that behind you, but I think about it a lot. The war and what it did to all of us. I talk to Ron and Hermione about it still, sometimes—”

He trailed off, letting his hands slide up and back, sinking them into his hair and tugging in mute frustration. He was butchering this; he just knew it. But Severus wasn’t interrupting him, nor was he getting up and storming out of the room as Harry half-suspected he might. Chancing a glance, he started a bit in surprise when his eyes met Severus’ across the way and found him almost eerily calm. One dark eyebrow arched as Severus made an imperious ‘carry on’ gesture with one hand. Choking out a nervous laugh, Harry took a few steadying breaths before doing just that.

“I think what I really wanted was to somehow show that while the whole thing left its marks on us, we’re still here. Whatever stages we’re all in, that one thing is true. We fought, we’re here, and we won’t let it break us, make us less than. It was Luna who first gave me the idea, actually. She was talking about how the Picts used to paint themselves before battle, of all things, and I thought about what other sorts of marks come out of war. Anyway, I ended up asking for volunteers amongst the people I knew who’d fought in either of the wars, and that album is the result, at least so far.”

He’d taken his hands out of his hair at some point and was instead twisting his fingers together in his lap nervously as he watched Severus’ face for a reaction. The older man nodded once and closed the album carefully, letting it rest on his knees as he sat back in thought. Harry waited despite it being difficult for him to sit still or let the silence linger unbroken. Every now and then he’d peek over at Severus, but for the most part he either looked down at his hands or around the room. Eventually the other man cleared his throat, and Harry’s attention snapped back to him fully, thighs tensing anxiously as he bounced his feet without realizing what he was doing.

“You said ‘so far’, implying that it is unfinished. What is it lacking, do you think?”

Harry blinked and just gaped at him for a moment before giving a rueful half-smile and shaking his head. Severus never ceased to surprise him. When he thought the man would go one way, he went another. Sometimes Harry was sure he did it on purpose just to spite him. His amusement at the thought was short-lived, however. He was nervous about the answer to Severus’ question. Even more so than when the other man had initially seen the pictures with no forewarning. Bracing himself, he leveled his friend ( _he is your friend_ , Harry reminded himself) with a slightly unsteady look and opened his mouth to reply.

“You, actually. I wanted to ask you to be a part of the project. I had a whole speech planned and everything. And then of course you had to go and just open the bloody thing before I could get a word out.”

He saw Severus blanch and one of his hands move up to touch the cloth that covered the scars on his throat in an unconscious gesture. Harry held a hand out in a soothing manner, his gaze softening. Severus always wore shirts with collars that came practically to his chin even in the height of summer, so Harry knew the enormity of what he was asking. He hoped that Severus would at least consider his request, however. He very badly wanted his friend to let go of his shame surrounding the scars on his neck, and he’d hoped that seeing others bare theirs might help Severus find the courage to do the same. His voice gentled as he resumed speaking.

“Severus, you’re so much more than your scars, but they _are_ a part of you. You have nothing to be ashamed of—” He held up a hand to stop him when he saw Severus’ mouth open to voice a protest, “—no, _nothing_ to be ashamed of. You did your part. More than. I wish you’d believe that, believe me. I want to do this partly because I want you to see yourself the way I see you. I think if you let me photograph you that it might help make that possible. If you say yes to the pictures that doesn’t mean you have to be a part of the project, even. No one ever has to see them but you and me if you don’t want, and you can keep the originals or destroy them; it’s entirely up to you. You don’t have to give me an answer now. Just.. think about it. Please?”

Severus’ expression shuttered as he visibly withdrew into himself. He fingered the edges of the album in his lap as he sat there in frozen indecision. After what felt like an eternity to Harry, the other man stood and crossed the room to stand in front of him. Harry felt him press the book into his hands and gently touch the back of one in a slow caress of only fingertips against his skin in a silent show of reassurance as Harry’s face creased in worry, afraid that he’d pushed Severus too far.

“I need to go now, and— Harry, stop making that face. You haven’t driven me off forever. Such dramatics. I just need a little time. Today was.. a lot at once, that’s all. I _will_ think about it, I promise you. You’ll have your answer by the time I come for tea next week, hm?”

Harry relaxed. Severus only used his first name when he was being serious, when it mattered. He nodded and steadied the album with one hand, using the other to catch Severus’ sleeve in between his thumb and forefinger and give it a light tug in return for the touch to the back of his hand; his smile upon meeting the other man’s gaze was warm. A nod and a quiet exchange of farewells later, and Harry found himself alone in his sitting room. He looked down at the album with a thoughtful expression, hope unfurling tiny tendrils in his chest as he opened it and thumbed slowly through the pages.

~~~

He stared down at the note in his hand, nervously smoothing the edges of the paper that had become somewhat frayed from his constant handling since he’d received it Wednesday morning. Severus’ spidery handwriting skittered across the parchment, words so clipped and precise that Harry could almost hear them as he read:

_Potter,_

_I agree so long as you are the only other person present and the affair may be conducted at your home studio. Our pre-arranged meeting on Saturday should suffice for the appointment._

_S.S._

It was now Saturday, and Harry had spent the morning in his studio, nervously preparing everything he’d need to photograph Severus. Usually he worked with an assistant, but today he’d have to compensate by arranging the set in advance and making any adjustments to lighting or equipment himself on the fly. He kept it simple, as he had with most of his other subjects in the series. The backdrop he’d chosen was a deep green, a slight nod to Severus’ Slytherin roots that he hoped the man would approve. He had brought his friend’s favorite armchair up from the sitting room and arranged it in the center of the set in case Severus preferred to be seated for the picture. If not, it was a simple enough task to banish it back downstairs.

Taking a few deep breaths to center himself, he looked around to check and see if there was anything he needed to tweak before heading downstairs to wait for Severus to arrive. Satisfied with the state of the place, he headed down to the kitchen to have a bracing cup of tea. When the sound of the floo alerted him some time later, he set his cup in the sink and hurried out to meet Severus. He halted abruptly when they encountered each other in the hallway and flashed the other man a nervous smile before greeting him and asking if he wanted tea before they got started. His query was greeted with a head shake and Severus voicing that he would prefer that they proceed with ‘their other business of the day’ as he put it.

Harry blinked owlishly at him for a minute before nodding and leading his guest up to the top floor of the house, which he’d completely cleaned out and renovated in the years following the end of the war. Severus entered the studio ahead of him and examined the set with a decidedly blank look on his face. He’d been quiet so far, Harry noted worriedly, his answers brief and clipped, voice oddly flat. Severus slowly came to a stop next to the armchair and turned to face him, though his eyes only met Harry’s for a brief instant before flicking to examine a light stand off to his left. Harry watched him remove his outer robes and toss them over the back of the chair before those long-fingered hands moved up to begin undoing his cravat. 

He couldn’t stand the silence anymore or the expression on the other man’s face, aloof and distant as it was. Harry crossed the room in a few quick strides, closing the distance between them and reaching out to still Severus’ hands by placing his own atop them, gripping them gently. His voice was quiet but firm.

“Severus, do you actually want to do this, or are you just humoring me? Because you’ve barely said anything since you arrived, and you won’t even look at me. If you’ve changed your mind, we can go back downstairs right now, have tea, and I’ll never mention it again, I swear.”

The hands beneath his stilled, and it took a moment of strained silence after he finished speaking before Severus _finally_ met his gaze and let his mask fall enough for Harry to glimpse the vulnerability underneath. He opened his mouth to tell him to forget the whole thing, but Severus hurried to override him, his words coming out in an uncharacteristic rush as a result.

“No, I do. I did. I- that is to say, I do wish to, and no, I haven’t changed my mind. I am merely.. they- oh blast it all! They are ugly, Harry. My scars. **I** am ugly, and no one should be subjected to—”

Harry’s fierce scowl silenced the other man nearly as effectively as the grip that tightened around Severus’ wrists. His voice was a growl of sound, a tone he rarely used these days, his throat tight with anger.

“ _Don’t_. Don’t say that. Not ever again, do you hear me? You are _not_ ugly. I’ve seen them. I remember. I was there when you were healing still, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing about you is ugly. Not a single thing.”

Severus’ eyes were wide as they met his, clearly taken aback by the intensity of Harry’s response. After a moment, he replied, voice a quiet murmur of sound in the sudden stillness of the room.

“I find myself at a loss as to how to properly respond, Harry. I.. I confess that I have found it difficult to imagine how you might see me. I’ve thought of it often after what you said last week, but I cannot fathom it.”

Harry inhaled sharply at this and closed his eyes briefly against the onslaught of feelings that assailed him at Severus’ words. When he opened them again, his hold on Severus’ wrists had eased, fingers rubbing a gentle apology there instead. His determination renewed, he looked up into Severus’ face, his tone this time a plea.

“Then let me show you.”

His face lit up at Severus’ cautious nod, and he released the other man’s hands so he could resume removing his cravat. Harry fidgeted in place until he was pinned with an exasperated look, and grinning sheepishly, he slunk over to where he had his camera set up on a tripod to fiddle with its settings while Severus got ready. When he looked up again Severus had removed his suit jacket, leaving him in only his dress shirt and waistcoat. He’d sat down in the armchair and unfastened the top two buttons of his shirt, leaving his neck exposed to Harry’s view. 

Harry left off messing with his camera to approach Severus, halting before him and asking permission before reaching out to adjust his collar, spreading it wider and smoothing it a bit. He looked at Severus from several angles before having him adjust his positioning, angling his scarred side a bit more prominently and having him raise his chin. Moving back to his camera, he looked through the lens experimentally before calling a few more instructions, which Severus obeyed with only one eye roll and minimal grousing. Once things were settled to Harry’s satisfaction, he started taking pictures, eventually taking the camera off the tripod and snapping shots from different points around the room.

At one point he stopped and lowered the camera, considering Severus carefully for a moment. Closing the distance between them, he reached out with his free hand and tucked Severus’ hair behind his ear, smiling down at him softly.

“There, that’s better.”

The tips of his fingers grazed lightly along Severus’ jawline before withdrawing, and in that instant a look ignited in the other man’s eyes that made Harry catch his breath and swiftly draw his camera back up as he took a few quick steps backwards to focus and snap several rapidfire shots. When he was done, he lowered it again and stammered out a request.

“I-I think I’ve got what I need. Um.. would you like to wait while I develop a few of the shots? It shouldn’t take too long, and I’d lo-er.. like it if you’d stay so I could show you.”

Severus considered him a moment before standing and adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves absently as he answered.

“I suppose I could make us tea while you’re otherwise occupied. It isn’t as if I don’t know my way around your kitchen.”

Harry protested weakly that Severus needn’t do any such thing, but he was waved off with another of those patented eye rolls and a few gruff words of dismissal. He could make Severus see himself through Harry’s eyes, he was sure. The answer was in this roll of film, and Harry was going to bring those images to life with all the skill at his disposal. Knowing better than to argue, he packed himself off to his dark room and set to work with a will.

~~~

It had taken nearly an hour, and Harry was cursing under his breath as he cleaned up the last of the chemical baths and then danced from foot to foot while eyeing the photographs he’d hung to dry on the lines strung above his work table. The first few were probably safe to pluck free, but he didn’t want to risk smudging or wrinkling any of them. He was immensely proud of the ones he’d chosen to show Severus, but the absolute best were two he’d taken just at the end after what he’d dubbed as the face-touching incident.

Chewing his lip, his patience finally broke, and he murmured a drying charm under his breath to help them along and gathered the ones he wanted to take back upstairs with him. It was fine if he had to redo some of his work later if Severus agreed to be a part of the series. Right now, all he wanted was to share them with the man in his kitchen. Well, Harry hoped he was still in his kitchen. Grimacing, he hurried to the door and clambered back up to the next level of the house. Bursting into the room, he stumbled to a halt at the sight of Severus seated at the table, his shirt sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, casually sipping a cup of tea and reading a book he’d obviously pilfered from the library.

“Severus! I’m _so_ sorry that it too—oh.. You-you kept yourself occupied. Good! That’s good. I-what was I saying?”

Harry received an amused smirk over the rim of Severus’ teacup for his trouble, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind, currently enthralled by the sight of the man so comfortably ensconced at his kitchen table. Severus looked good, looked like he _belonged_ there, and Harry’s mind snagged on that thought and blossomed into picturing sharing all sorts of intimate moments like this with him in this room. Making breakfast together, doing dishes, Harry laughing at Severus’ sardonic comments as he critiqued an article in the Daily Prophet. He could imagine all that and more, and his chest ached with the wanting of it. He blinked when Severus cleared his throat and set his teacup down. The other man was speaking, and Harry forced himself to pay attention properly.

“You were rambling. As usual. Now come over here and sit down, or I shall be forced to start without you.”

Severus indicated the small spread he’d left under a stasis spell with a slight inclination of his head, and Harry looked over at the counter with renewed interest, his stomach choosing to add to the proceedings with an appreciative rumble. He blushed hotly when Severus heard it and laughed, but Harry didn’t really mind so much, not when his friend sounded so carefree, happy and in the moment. He lifted the stasis with a flick of his wrist and a thought and began fixing them both a plate each, moving over to set them on the table before offering to freshen Severus’ tea and fix his own cup.

They spent the next few minutes in companionable silence while putting a dent in the sandwiches and biscuits Severus had prepared in Harry’s absence. When Harry was on his second cup of tea and Severus was nursing his third, he sat back with a replete sigh and sent both their plates to the sink and aimed a careless Scourgify at the table. Remembering himself, he reached over to where he’d set aside the stack of pictures he’d brought up from his work room and shuffled through them for a moment to put them in some sort of order. He was thrumming with nervous excitement when he looked up at Severus and was met with an expression that was both knowing and helplessly fond, he flushed red to the tips of his ears and looked away again, thrusting the stack of photos at him haphazardly across the table.

“Here! These are what I think were the best of the lot. My f-favorites are the last two, but I want to know what you think. So be honest. I can..I can take it.”

Severus was silent as he examined the pictures in his hands, flipping through them slowly and giving careful consideration to each. Harry eventually couldn’t help but look back over at him, worrying nervously at his lower lip with his teeth again while he waited. When Severus came to the last two he stilled, his expression intent. Finally, he set the photographs down on the table and raised his gaze to meet Harry’s. He was quiet for so long that Harry began to fidget under the scrutiny, but finally the silence was broken when Severus stood and slowly made his way around the table, coming to a stop beside Harry’s chair, causing the younger man to be forced to turn toward him and tip his head back to continue to meet Severus’ gaze.

“Your talent speaks for itself, Harry. And you were right. The last two were the best of the lot. Do you know why that is?”

Harry’s mouth went dry as Severus reached out, his index finger curling under Harry’s chin and his thumb resting just underneath and to one side of his lower lip. He was frozen, transfixed by both Severus’ hand on his face and by the intensity of his gaze. All he could manage was a hoarsely croaked negation, which was met with an arched eyebrow and another low-voiced reply.

“Then allow me to clarify. I believe you’re most of the way there already, but just so there’s no confusion…”

Severus leaned down until their faces were mere inches apart, causing Harry to feel as if all the air had been sucked from his lungs. His eyes were wide pools of green behind his old wire-framed spectacles, and he nearly missed what the other man was saying as he quietly relearned how to breathe.

“You captured me in the last two in a moment I was unguarded. Your timing was impeccable, really, but it was also quite revealing for yourself. You see, admitting those to be your favorites confirmed something for me. Something that I’ve been telling myself for quite some time that I must have been imagining because it simply wasn’t possible. Couldn’t be. Foolish of me to even consider. But now I’m just sure enough for this.”

Harry watched, frozen, as Severus tilted his head slightly and leaned in, closing the distance between them and brushing their mouths together with the lightest of touches before pulling back to observe his reaction. He made a low, desperate noise of protest and reached out, one hand fisting in the front of Severus’ shirt as he hauled him back in and kissed him properly, his lips moving hungrily against the other man’s. Severus answered with a groan, and the next several minutes were a blur of soft lips, exploring tongues, and the occasional break for a gasp of air before one of them would drag the other right back in again.

It was Harry who finally flattened his hand against Severus’ chest and pulled back enough to plead for a reprieve. Dark eyes opened again and met his, and in them Harry finally recognized what he’d captured in that unguarded moment earlier in his studio. It was _desire_. Severus wanted him. His mind was reeling with it, the fact that the object of his affection actually felt the same. And what had Severus been saying before they kissed? Something about having been telling himself Harry couldn’t have wanted him back? And for _quite some time_ , too. He spoke all in a rush, desperate for clarity, and perhaps for a bit of reassurance.

“Tell me this is actually happening and that I’ve not just overslept and dreamt it and am about to wake up late for tea again.”

His request was met with a huff of quiet laughter, and Severus stroked his cheek with gentle fingers as he looked at him with patient fondness.

“Should we repeat the experience, then? Just to be sure, of course.”

Harry nodded vigorously.

“Yes, I think so. And..er, we could do other stuff, too. You know, if..if you wanted.”

He went scarlet as he realized what he’d just said, and he covered his face with his hands, head bowing as his shoulders curled inward in abject mortification. Severus clucked his tongue in reproach and nudged Harry’s hands out of the way in order to cup his face and lift it so he could catch his gaze again.

“I do. I want many things, Harry. Things that I imagine would make that lovely flush go much further down were I to elaborate. Is this still alright?”

Harry nodded again as Severus angled his head with gentle fingers and leaned down to claim his mouth in another kiss, this one deep and unhurried. Unable to hold back the soft moans that rose in him at the feel of Severus’ tongue against his own, Harry’s hands lifted, one tangling in Severus’ hair, the other resting against his chest. After a few more moments of this, Harry felt Severus gently pulling back and so he opened his eyes to look up at him, his pupils blown wide, mouth slack with need. He made another of those little whining noises of protest low in his throat, and Severus smirked at him and stroked a thumb slowly along his lower lip as he considered him.

“If you keep making those delightful sounds, I may lose what remains of my restraint and have you right here on your kitchen table.”

Harry’s eyes lit with interest at this, and while keeping his gaze locked with Severus’, he parted his lips and took Severus’ thumb into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and sucking lightly. The other man looked down at him, eyes blazing, and the next thing he knew his thumb was gone, replaced once again with Severus’ mouth on his. The kiss was demanding, with Severus alternately nipping at Harry’s lips, then soothing them with a sweep of his tongue before plunging back in again. 

Severus’ hands seemed to be everywhere, and the next thing Harry registered was them pausing on his belt as the other man broke the kiss to sink to his knees between Harry’s spread thighs. He didn’t remember how his chair had come to be facing Severus or even when the man had nudged his legs further apart, but here they were; he didn’t think he’d ever been quite this hard in his life. It took a moment to register that Severus was speaking, but he forced himself to focus on the words.

“If this is too much too soon, tell me, Harry. Otherwise, I would very much like to touch you now, taste you, whatever you’ll allow me.”

Harry groaned at that and licked his lips, hands flexing restlessly at his sides before he gathered enough wits to answer him properly.

“Not too much. S’not too much. I want.. oh, god, anything, Sev. I.. Merlin, anything.”

The smile he got in return was positively wicked, and Severus undid his flies and tugged his cock free of his trousers and pants. Harry’s breath stuttered in his chest, and any remaining ability to process a coherent thought left him at the feel of Severus’ hand circling the base of his shaft, while the other guided the head to his waiting mouth. At the first brush of his tongue, lips rolling Harry’s foreskin back with careful, yet practiced ease as Severus took in more of his length, Harry’s eyes rolled shut, head dropping back as a deep moan was wrenched from the very depths of him.

This was it, he was going to die. Again. He couldn’t possibly survive the veritable tidal wave of sensation that was overtaking him as Severus began to set up a steady rhythm. The man didn’t seem to possess a gag reflex, and Harry was quite sure this would be the end of him. Well, if he was going to kick off, he at least wanted to savor the moment before he went. Forcing his eyes open, he looked down and groaned all over again, riveted by the sight of Severus very enthusiastically working him over. But what made his eyes widen and his hands curl into fists in a desperate effort to control himself was the fact that Severus’ free hand had been busy while Harry had been lost in sensation.

Harry couldn’t see everything from the angle he was at, much to his frustration, but he _could_ tell that Severus had worked one hand down into his own trousers. He could see his arm flex and jerk with the motion of what he was doing, and the very idea that Severus was getting off on bringing Harry pleasure was nearly enough to tip him over the edge. Clamping down on the tattered threads of his self-control, he tried desperately to focus on Severus instead, how he might do more than just sit there like a lump.

Galvanized by the thought, he relaxed, widening his legs further and sinking his hands into Severus’ hair, gently stroking the silky, dark locks. They seldom appeared greasy or unkempt any longer, and Severus had even allowed his hair to grow out past his shoulders. It was lovely and one of Harry’s favorite things about him. A pleased hum greeted his actions, and Harry smiled down at Severus, catching his eye and holding his gaze when he started to speak.

“You look gorgeous like this, Severus, and your mouth, _ahh_..feels amazing on my cock. Have you pictured us like this? Did you touch yourself while you thought about sucking me off? Is it as good as you imagined it would be?”

Severus’ eager moans vibrated along the length of his shaft, causing him to stop speaking for a moment and wrest himself back under control. He couldn’t help the gentle rocking of his hips in time to the motions of Severus’ bobbing head, but the other man wasn’t protesting at all. Rather the opposite, he’d removed his hand from the base of Harry’s cock to instead grip one of his hips and urge him to move faster, which Harry was more than happy to oblige. He was getting close, and no amount of gathering himself was going to be able to stave his orgasm off for much longer. So he’d just have to make sure that Severus was just as worked up as he was.

“Fuck, that’s so good, Severus. I’m c-close. Are you going to come for me? I want you to. I want you to make an absolute mess of yourself right here on my kitchen floor. C’mon, Sev’rus, _mmhn_.. I’m gonna—oh fuck, Sev, please!”

The intensity got to be too much for Harry’s tightly wound control, and he finally snapped, barely able to choke out a warning before he was arching, body spasming as he came. Severus made no attempts to pull back when he did, instead quite eagerly swallowing everything Harry gave him and continuing to suck him through each shudder and jerk of his climax. The other man’s fist was a blur on his own cock, and it wasn’t long before he was following Harry over the edge.

When both of them had calmed, Harry flopped bonelessly in his chair, and Severus cast a perfunctory cleaning charm over each of them and righted their clothing before slowly making his way to his feet. Harry blinked drowsily at him and caught one of his hands in his, linking their fingers together and frowning a little when he noticed Severus wince once fully standing. The other man saw the concern in his face and leaned down to cup Harry’s cheek with his free hand and press his lips lightly to the wrinkle forming between Harry’s eyebrows. Severus’ voice was both gruff and tender all at once.

“Don’t fuss. I’m fine. Merely too old to be kneeling on kitchen floors without the forethought of casting a cushioning charm first, but I was rather distracted at the time. I can’t imagine why that was.”

Harry blushed as Severus smirked at him, and he could tell that it pleased him, that Severus could make Harry blush even after what they’d just done together. 

“Sorry, I should’ve thought of that. But I..I really liked it. And Severus, I—” he paused to bite his lip, gathering his courage before blurting out the rest, “—I really like _you_. More than like, if I’m honest.”

He ducked his head as he finished but then couldn’t resist peeking up at the other man to see his reaction. Harry smiled at what he found, reassured by the open tenderness in Severus’ expression. 

“You don’t say? A master of subtlety, you are.”

The light squeeze Severus gave Harry’s fingers in his gave the lie to his words, and the other man leaned in again as Harry arched up to meet him for a slow and lingering kiss. When they both pulled back, Severus continued.

“I know, Harry. And I care for you also, very much. I’ve known it for a long time, I think. It is only that I am…”

His words trailed off, and Harry stood up, looping an arm around his waist and tugging him close. He saw the helpless frustration forming in Severus’ face and moved to kiss it away, a soft, brief press of lips before he pulled back to speak.

“You’re too hard on yourself. That’s all. We’ll work on that. I’ll show you all the good parts of you, just like with the photos today, mm? You’ll see.”

He leaned up and kissed him again, longer this time, eyes closing as he swayed in Severus’ hold. Long fingers gripped his hips, steadying him as he was kissed back with equal fervor. When they finally parted for air, Severus tugged Harry even closer, and he allowed it, smiling and resting his head against the other man’s shoulder with a contented sigh. Severus’ voice was soft and full of something that might’ve been wonder.

“I believe you, my Harry. I believe.”

They stayed there like that for a while, quiet and content in each other’s arms, and it was good. 

The photo Severus in the pictures scattered haphazardly across the kitchen table stared out, gaze hungry and intent, scars bared to the world, and that was good, too. Quite good indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> 💋 This work is part of the Taste of Smut Fest, a Harry Potter-centered fest dedicated to the five senses: taste, touch, smell, hearing, and sight. 
> 
> If you’ve enjoyed this work, please do shower our content creators with kudos and comments! 💌
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